


Et Tu, Brute?

by ScullyLovesQueequeg



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Complete, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-22 00:21:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2487566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScullyLovesQueequeg/pseuds/ScullyLovesQueequeg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scully reflects on her time spent with CSM, and Mulder’s anger on not being told. (Takes place right after En Ami, 07x15)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Et Tu, Brute?

When she strolled into the office, he didn’t look up.

What a contrast from Wednesday, when he had been eager to greet her and show her what he had discovered. His feet had been up on desk, and when she walked in that day, he nearly leapt out of his chair to show her the email that’d been sent to him anonymously.

And now he won’t even look at her. A lot changes in a couple hours. A little over 48, to be exact.

But she wouldn’t fault him for being upset. She had betrayed him, in a way. The betrayal was unacceptable and she fully understood that. After everything they’d been through, she could only imagine that he was surprised and angry—to find that she had lied to him, and allied herself with CSM, even if it was for the greater good. There was really no way around that. Even though she’d done her best to keep him informed, the real betrayal was that she had lied.

"Good morning, Mulder." She spoke, her voice a low tone. Her eyes were fixed on him; he was reading a half folded newspaper, but she noticed his eyes were not moving; he was probably pretending to read so he wouldn’t have to look at her.

"Morning." His voice sounded as though he were addressing one of the lab techs in his impersonal manner. His tone stung, but she did not let that show. Instead, she sat down in a chair across from his desk.

"I spoke to Skinner," She started once again, using her hand to sweep the errant locks of hair that had fallen in her face, obscuring her vision. The action was reflexive; it was not something she put any thought to, but even the best of them could ascribe a meaning to it, and out of his periphery, he caught the action and it’s meaning: she was uneasy. He turned the paper over.

"What did he want?"

"He has a case—for you. Just outside of Arlington…" Her eyes settled on his nameplate.

"Okay. I’ll meet you downstairs in ten." He said, putting the paper down and standing.

"I’m—I’m not going. I have to be at a hearing. It’s to give testimony as to what happened to the scientist yesterday. Then I’m taking the rest of the day for personal time." 

Now he looked at her.

She was staring at his hands, which had made their way to his hips.

"I need you with me, though." He started, testing the metaphorical ice on the lake to see if it would hold. She looked up at him but it was clear from her expression she didn’t believe him. The ice creaked threateningly, but did not crack.

"No, Mulder, you don’t need me. I can’t be here. I was almost killed yesterday, I’m still having a hard time processing this. I’ll be back tomorrow. I’ve already told Skinner I was leaving."

"Okay." Mulder said, leaning over the desk to get the case folder before walking out of the office. When he left, she breathed a heavy sigh of relief before taking a sweeping look of the office. Despite the clutter, it felt oddly empty.

 

Talking about the case did not make it feel any less disturbing; she found the Cancer Man to be oleaginous in the way he regarded her, and she wanted to take a shower just thinking about it. Seeing him standing in the back of the room gave her an uneasy feeling, and she was glad to be alone when they dismissed her.

Thoughts of the day he had spent with her hovered in her mind. Sitting in the car and talking with the Cancer Smoking Man. She thought about Mulder, his anger and her frustration. He hadn’t even brought himself to look at her, although when he did, she wish he had not because it made her feel as though he see every flaw and insecurity and she hated it.

As she left the conference room, she headed for the elevator. She couldn’t put words to how she felt, so she didn’t try to. It would not have mattered. When she reached the elevator, she pressed the call button, and when it arrived, she stepped inside. 

Habit made her press the button on the elevator that indicated basement floor, but when she remembered that Mulder was out and about, she pressed the lobby button as well. The elevator moved, stopping on the 8th floor, and opened to reveal Mulder. When he saw her, and she saw him, she saw his expression go from surprise, to delight and then indifference. Likewise, Mulder could see her expression go from indifferent, to delight, and then to troubled.

For moment, neither of them spoke, or moved. Then the doors started to close, and so he slid into the elevator with her, but moved to the other side, to stare at the wall while she concentrated on the panel. When the elevator was on the ground floor, she did not acknowledge him, or his presence, but hurried out of the elevator, making sure not to look back.

 

When she got home, it was around 11 in the morning. She was never usually home this early, so she had too much time on her hands, and naturally, that was when thoughts began to flow. She started to finish up tasks she normally didn’t have the time for, like cleaning, and watching shows she had recorded. The day moved by slowly, and before she knew it, she found herself sleeping on the couch.

When she awoke, it was around 5:30. There was a couple of knocks at the door, and when she was cognizant of what it was, she got up to answer. She opened the door, and when she saw who it was, she was thoroughly surprised and almost wanted to close the door.

It was Mulder. He didn’t look angry; he seemed concerned, but she couldn’t place what the cause was. She opened the door wider and let him in, and he came inside, shedding his coat without a word. She half hugged herself, bringing her hand to her chin, and worrying her lip. She could not look at his face. When he was settled, he stood in front of her, and neither of them said anything until finally, Mulder cautiously stepped out onto the metaphorical ice. 

"How are you feeling?"

She glanced up at him, and accidentally betray her worry in the form of a frown. He was surprised; the last time she looked that way was the first time she encountered Donnie Pfaster. It was the look she gave him before she began to cry. Mulder felt his expression soften.

"I’m doing okay. You didn’t need to come out here…" She said, pushing the feeling away. She moved past him and into the kitchen to make herself and presumably him something to eat. Mulder sat at her table and watched her hands work.

"I know, but I just—I wanted to tell you that I forgive you." 

The utensils in the kitchen clattered loudly when she dropped them. She didn’t move for a moment.

“ _How magnanimous of you_. Really, Mulder.” Her tone was not kind.

"You were the one that lied before gallivanting with this man who’s tried to kill us both, not me, in case you forgot." Mulder said, testily.

The ice finally gave way.

"You say it like I did that on purpose, Mulder! I had to lie to you because I didn’t want to get you involved! I didn’t want to worry you because I know how you are and if I had told you the truth, you would have came in with the Calvary!"

"Yeah, because that man is dangerous! Or did you forget about all of his transgressions while he whispered into your ear whatever lies he said to make you believe him?" His words were awkward and clumsy, and were too deliberate to have been spoken in the heat of the moment which lead Scully to believe that he had  _already anticipated that they would fight_. 

"If he were lying, then why didn’t he kill me once I outlived my usefulness? He said he had a special affection for me, and for you."

"And you believed him?" Mulder’s tone was indifferent. The man might have been his father, but his feelings for him had not changed; if anything, they grew even more resentful after the surgery.

"I don’t—I don’t know. I just know that it’s over, I’m here now, and I only did what I had to. I made tapes, I mailed them to you. You didn’t get any?"

"No." Mulder said, watching her move around the kitchen once again. "I didn’t get anything. Langly said that you were exchanging emails with that scientist."

"I wasn’t," Scully made a face at this remark but it could not be seen by Mulder, "Someone was impersonating me…" She let that die in the air, thinking back on the scientist.

_You’re even lovelier than you had described yourself. Even more so at dinner, last night. I’m afraid after this though, we cannot have any more contact. It’s a shame, I would have liked to take you out to dinner properly… Perhaps someday we can meet under less dire circumstances._

"They did a good job. That scientist liked you." Mulder said, with a tone she could not place. When she looked over, she was surprised that his expression was laden with an emotion she could not name and had never seen in him before and she was afraid of directly addressing it, so she ignored it. She put his plate in front of him and put hers down and began to eat. Reluctantly, Mulder did the same.

"Steamed vegetables. No meat?" Mulder asked, though in a manner that implied he hadn’t cared about the answer.

"No, sorry. I don’t have any in the fridge." Scully said, though her tone also suggested as his did that the matter of meat was inconsequential. Mulder did not answer, and as they ate, Scully recalled the look on his face moments prior, and it gave her a sinking, swallowing feeling that made her throat constrict. She did not feel like crying; it was a strange feeling of abject terror that Mulder was truly angry with her to the point that he would do something rash.

When dinner was over and done with, they both sat at the table in silence. A couple minutes passed, and a couple times, Scully made an effort to speak but then—

"Scully, I… You’re the only person in the world who has my complete and absolute trust." Those words made bile rise in her throat, and she had a feeling she was not going to like where this conversation was headed, if it were even going to go anywhere.

"Mulder, don’t." Her voice was quiet, defeated almost. Mulder still wouldn’t look at her.

"No, I have to, because this is all wrong and I hate being like this with you. You’re my partner. I trust you, I value your opinion, I’m happy in your company and we make a good team. I consider you to be a friend of mine, and if I had to do this all over, I would choose you, every time. You’re so important to me, and it’s why I can’t understand why you would just throw yourself into a situation like this and lie to me."

Scully didn’t know how to react at first. She had not expected such a frank admission from him, and when she glanced at Mulder, he met her glance with a steady gaze.

"Mulder, I know. I know it was stupid… I didn’t want you to come rescue me. I worry about you—you do a lot already, and at the expense of your own wellbeing. I appreciate everything that you do, but sometimes, you have to let other people help. I thought I was helping everyone. I did my best to keep you informed—when I lied to you, I did so to keep you out of trouble. My mistake was trusting Cancer Man. I should have never let him get close but I did. Mulder, what I saw…. I’m proof, the woman—she was proof… Cancer can be beaten. It can be cured, but the cost of finding out the cure was to maybe get my hands a little dirty. It was something that as a scientist and a doctor, I could not ignore. I don’t regret what I did because I thought I was doing the right thing." Her gaze broke from his, and she expected Mulder to get angry but he sighed.

“I know. I shouldn’t’ve gotten so angry, but I care about you too. I just wasn’t really thinking straight, but I didn’t want you to be hurt. I’m tired of having my back stabbed over and over, you know? It’s running out of real estate for new knives.” He said in a jocular tone, but Scully couldn’t bring herself to laugh. She recalled the first time he had accused her of betrayal. He had been wrong then too, but the accusation stung, and she wondered if he ever thought about it. She knew that every now and then—especially when it rained—his shoulder ached. She thought about that sometimes when she struggled with sleeping between flights and always, when the day was raining ceaselessly. He was always good about it—he never complained, but she knew it ached him.

She released a sigh that seemed to take a tremendous effort. She wanted to apologize to him, and she almost did but every time she thought of what she wanted to say, she realized that there was nothing she could really say to remedy what happened—only excuse.

“I didn’t mean to stab you in the back.” She said lowly, eyes fixed on the table.

“I didn’t know that you did. If you said you tried to send me tapes and letters, I believe you. I’m sorry I doubted you.” He said, though he pulled out his chair and rose to his feet. Scully glanced over, and watched him make the motions of someone getting ready to leave.

“Where are you going?” He paused for a moment, his coat in his hand, but his gaze off to the side, as if considering.

“I’m not really sure. Home, I guess. Why?” His gaze swept over to her, and she couldn’t interpret the look he had on his face. It wasn’t indifferent, but it wasn’t openly beckoning, either.

“I don’t know, I thought that since you came all the way here, you were going to stay a while.” There was a shrug implied in her tone, but she did not make the action, choosing to stand instead and see him by the door.

“Do you want me to stay?” His voice had lowered, and she wondered if he knew that his tone had gotten more intimate. Probably not.

“It doesn’t matter to me. It’s up to you. Either way, I’ll be back at work tomorrow.” She said, and that made him smile, but only a little.

“In that case, I’ll see you tomorrow, I suppose.” He put his coat on, still reluctant to leave. She opened the door for him and he started to leave but when he crossed the threshold, he stopped and turned to face her.

“Yes?”

“There’s going to be a movie… on TV? I was just wondering if maybe you’d want to see it with me.” Scully smiled a little to herself and opened the door wider.

“That—that actually sounds like a good idea,” Scully said, allowing him to come back inside. He removed his coat again and made a beeline for the couch, as Scully closed the door. She knew that they wouldn’t talk about what had happened anymore, but it felt oddly relaxing to know that he wasn’t angry with her anymore, and even though she was sure she wouldn’t like the movie, she didn’t mind spending time with him, regardless.


End file.
